On Friday night, I picked a movie Theo had never seen and I had watched so many times I could recite the opening credits. He let me choose the seats. I chose the middle row, close enough to see the screen and far enough from the people whispering behind us.
The Marlowe was open again.
The new marquee letters shone above the sidewalk. Inside, the lobby had been polished but not stripped of its history. The old ticket window remained, and someone had set the program from the first season of the theater beside a photograph of the restoration crew.
Theo stood next to me, reading the program for the evening. "You've seen this one before?"
"Many times."
"Is there anything I should know?"
"Only that the ending is perfect."
"Does it make me cry?"
"That depends on you."
"I'll try not to le
